


For No Good reason

by DiverseMaterials



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Dystopian, Friendship, Gen, Humour, Loneliness, Other, Tragedy, psychiatrists are evil, social parody, social satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-01
Updated: 2004-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:47:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiverseMaterials/pseuds/DiverseMaterials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another thirty years, if things continue as they do, what will we look like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lorem Ipsum

"Mr Abdil you will kindly remain seated while addressing the board!"  
Mr Abdil was placed in a dim and rather large hall, the back of which faded into near darkness. Near to where he was some illumination splashed from greasy yellow tube lights. It seemed to get brighter in the mouldy corridor leading off.  
A slight gust whipped at him as he gritted his teeth and sat down. It was all quite unnecessary, just to be talked to by a man and a woman who were shut up behind a plastic box.  
The man leveled the points of his eyes over his pointy nose like he were guiding a Lewis gun and adjusted his collar.  
"Now then perhaps it would be best if we started from the beginning."  
Mr Abdil restrained a groan with great difficulty and gritted his teeth. He saw the man whose name was Harrehem put his pointy fingers into his jacket, "This time we shall include the piece of evidence if you need a reason." He pulled out a slightly crumpled note. Mr Abdil furrowed his forehead for a second and then recognized it.  
"But, but, that's my note," he spluttered.  
"Of course it is, there's no point denying it."  
"I'm not denying it. 2 things, where did you get it from and I want it back because it's private."  
The woman, who was 'scribbling subject confessed to ownership', now wrote 'subject disturbed at sight of evidence.'  
"Private eh, why exactly is it private?"  
Dennistoun Abdil was shocked, Letters in general, even ones concerning business were considered private, this however was a personal note and so it was even more private and he told them so.  
The man however did not seem to understand the concept of personal.  
"Why is it personal?" That was a ridiculous question so silence. The silence was broken by.  
"Possibly you have something to hide?"  
Mr Abdil, a ruddy cheeked portly fellow with a head of thick straight black hair did not know what he was driving at. No, he did know, he was perfectly clear on it, but it infuriated him so much that he was still denying they were even talking about it. He shook his head, "That is a perfectly innocent note."  
Mr Harrehem raised a pointy eyebrow, "I can see what it is. It is mainly a note of congratulations concerning something about garbage, a coke machine, and ending perhaps I shall see you again. Which is almost fine apart from the last bit."  
"What the devils wrong with it?"  
"As you confessed earlier, its too personal."  
He wanted to laugh, he wanted to roar, he couldn't believe it. "Are we not allowed to be personal?"  
"But of course," said Mr Harrehem feigning shock, to the right sort of people. You will find the right sort of people in your age range."  
"Which is?"  
"43 to 45. Now this unwitting recipient 11 years old I believe... looking at our recommendations, a bit off line don't you think?"  
"No people of that sort in my block of flats, bit difficult."  
The woman interrupted, "Well you should contact the friends be united corporation. It is important to keep you happy." The words seemed forced out.  
"I am perfectly happy with what I've got thankyou," Dennistoun said tartly.  
Mr Harrehem rearranged his pointy tie and pursed his pointy lips. "But your social focus is in the wrong direction," he said in a matter of fact way. Mr Abdil's mood changed instantly but before he could explode he interrupted him swiftly.  
"Lets take a closer look at the details of your letter." Mr Harrehem was going to read it out but Dennistoun blurted, "I remember it!" He did indeed  
                                                                                                     17/8/31  
Dear Boy.  
I just thought I would write to thank you for your help with that garbage problem the other day. It is interesting to see someone so young actually caring for once. Do you see the rest of them? They just seem to drift. I had to help you get that can out of the machine when it was stuck. Lucky I was a mechanic. I rather enjoyed your banter as well. When we had to get rid of the dead rodent. You come out with the most fascinating things. I bear your line puzzle concerning the stars at night highly in mind. Tis a shame about my work. One leads a rather lonely lifestyle in this century. I do hope you get on well at your school. Erm do well at your lessons and all that. Got to get back to it then, perhaps I shall see you again sometime.

  
"Well there you go, I mean you can't be too personal it's ridiculous."  
"Why did you prefix it with dear?"  
Dennistoun spluttered again, "That is perfectly normal." Mr Harrehem muttered to the woman,  
"Note that down please, he asserts that it is perfectly normal." Pointy nails tapped on the desk. "Now why was he helping out with the garbage?"  


                                25/7/31  
The boy put on his blue coat with the duffels and shiny brass buttons and did it himself in the mirror. It was tricky, but all males as of 7 and upward would be capable of doing it themselves without asking for help as stated in the amended education and assistance act 2014. Now he would make his way downstairs and join his 11-year-old peers for a recommended trip out to pizza hut. Parents would go to a separate room and they would have one licensed supervisor. His guardians had already left. He pulled open the heavy metal door with considerable effort, went out and the door slammed and clicked locked behind him.  
  He stood on the concrete landing, his flat entrance was next to the thick black iron guardrail that was parallell to the narrow concrete stairs. There were no windows anywhere, a cheerless light came down from square shafts cut into the ceiling, the air was stale and musty.  
Standing a little way from him, looking at a great pile of dirt bags, paper and various rotten fruits was someone he knew as Mr Abdil. Mr Abdil tutted heavily to himself he raised his arms. "Now how the smeg did this get here?"  
The boy pattered forward like a curious lamb. "Are you O'K?" he asked.  
"Aahh!" the man nearly jumped out of his skin.  
"Oh its just you boy...Yes, we met at, at, somewhere."  
"What's going on here?"  
"Oh some bloody clever clogs wants me to do his tidying for him. It's on my patch and if we don't know who put it there, then it's up to muggins here... Me," he added, noting the confused look.  
"Would you like some help?"  
Mr Abdils mouth dropped open. "Help? _Help?_ My goodness that's such a rare offer these days. Mind you I don't know if I've got enough binbags at any rate."  
The boy pondered this, "Hey, I should have some spares in my cupboard; its outside my room luckily." He walked over quickly to a metal cupboard, unlocked it and brought out some black bags. A big smile lit up Dennistouns face. "Just the ticket boy, off we go."  
They whistled while they worked and they also talked. Dennistoun Abdil inquired as to where he was going. "Oh I was going to a meal trip with my peers." Dennistoun noted the eyes rolling at the last word.  
"What's wrong with them?"  
"They're just boring, they talk about the same old things again and again. And they are all mamas little angels, perfect children, especially the girls. I can't talk about what I want to talk about to them." He eyed him for a minute,  
"Not like you, you do say some really interesting things Mr Abdil."  
Dennistoun spluttered (Of course I spluttered, I didn't ask him to say that, he narrated later to Mr Harrehem) that was embarrassing. "What? Me? Really?"  
The boy nodded, "you haven't mentioned trainers once," he said.  
Abdil laughed as loud as he could and dispelled any awkwardness.  
  
***********  
"You made him late for his trip." Snapped Harrehem.  
"People are late for things."  
"But this time because of you," said the woman. She oozed herself forward and took the pencil out of her mouth. "The boy like all others has an important and busy schedule, it's not appropriate for him to be tidying up other peoples garbage at his age. He does not need any people like you in his life."  
"He was only trying to help!" yelled Abdil. They both ignored him.  
  
************  
"Well, well fancy seeing you here, having trouble lad?" The boy looked up from the coke machine and smiled. "Flippin cans, those rings that push em out, they don't seem to be working." Denny looked at the machine. It was very old style really, ought to have been decommissioned. "You know it's probably just a loose electric circuit at the back. Now if I have a quick tinker... eeeeh" Denny unplugged the machine and wrenched a panel off the back. The boy looked at the mass of red blue and green circuits. "Wow how do you know which one's which?" he said. Denny winked, "leave it to the experts," he said. "You're really clever," said the boy.  
Denny felt a touch of warmth on his cheek. "Thanks," he said casually.  
Two elegantly dressed people were in the cafe waiting in the queue. Lots of people were casting glances towards the coke machine. "Ah seh, is that small pearson talking with that other pearson."  
"Who ah doo believe he is."  
"Ahh hah awd, ah sehh how awd."  
There was a click and a can fell down into the little compartment.  
"There we go."  
"Oh, thanks Mr Abdil you're a pal."  
"See ya."

 

It was a rather dark night. They had bumped into each other on the stairs. The boy had been generally uninterested in his work for the day and had spent his time concocting some game based on the sky at night. Denny had told himself he was going to ignore him even if he'd met him. He told himself that it was like hearing the same song on a radio over and over. But then he had been intrigued by the boys puzzle.  
"So you see the hydrogen group which I learned about in a book connects with stellar group B." Denny drew a green line to a red dot. "No not there, here." Denny could see it made sense. Then he could see the time, "Gosh a mighty, must get some sleep, sorry I'll drop you a line or something." He left the boy blinking after him. So that was the fruition of the note that was seized on by Harrehem but it was not the most annoying thing, oh no.

 

   Denny was sat in a chair in his flat, which had bed, microwave, toilet and sink crammed into about four metres square. He had not seen his lad for a while. He just continued the usual drudge of go to work, have coffee, go for a piss, talk to his mates. What were they interested in, golf. What did they talk about, golf. He was sick of hearing about golf tee, that's why he drunk coffee. Other than that his only pleasures in life were watching Coronation Street, which had weathered the years rather well but was now cut down to weekly installments. It was obvious they were doing a rehash of an old previously successful storyline. Richard Mountainman trying to murder Emily priest. It was during a nail-manicuring installment of this that he heard a shuffle. He opened his door. There was the boy standing in that awfully dorky duffle coat.  
"I erm, I'm late I can't get in, boy it's gonna be embarrassing telling my parents."  
"Oh never mind boy, never mind. Look I can keep you company till they show up can't I? Yeah course I can."  
The boys face lit up, "Oh thanks. Hey I got the note, it was err good. I've kept it somewhere." He added the lines, "So mum don't see."  
"What are you on about?"  
"Tsmy mail. If it were not from my peer group as she calls em she'd go bezerk, you don't know what she's like."  
There was an awkward silence. Someone tried to fill it. The boy nervously related about the school day then got more confident and sped up.  
Denny sat down with his back propped up against the wall, eventually the boy sat as well and they tried to be as comfortable as they could with the harsh surfaces. Who was he? The kid reminded him of something he'd seen... about a boy...Hugh Grant. A dim memory, it probably wasn't important. They carried on talking. Apparently the "friend" usually seated next to him in the teaching center was a blond skinny nerd with a pair of spectacles and a constant cascade of boogers that dripped from his nose. Denny found himself wishing he had more to complain about. I come back from work and I stare at my walls... it could only be repeated so many times.  
As they carried on the moon crept higher in the sky. Then they started to tell jokes.  
"So why did the chicken cross the road?"  
"Dunno."  
"To buy the Buddhist chronicle, do you get it?" The boy shook his head. "Neither do I, I get the sun." The boy laughed long and loud.  
"You did understand that, I thought it was quite hard."  
The boys eyes gleamed, he shook his head. Dennistoun was amazed again. Such a nice person. "You're an alright child," he said and ruffled the boys hair. Then the door swung open and a woman came out who was in the middle of saying "I'm sorry we were in the loft." She froze and fixed Mr Abdil with an icy stare. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"  
"I beg your pardon I'm not doing anything."  
"Harry get out here!" A man wearing a grey shirt and trousers came out of the door looking confused. They were the boy's parents and they were both exactly 34 years of age.  
"I were just talking mam."  
"Talking...talking! You've had all day to do that with Scotty Perkins. Come here now!"  
 _Oh right more like Snotty Perkins, does she have any idea what this poor kid has to put up with it_  
 She spun round to Harry who was playing the part of a lemon perfectly. "Harry we have got to do something about that man. He touched my child's hair." She closed the door pausing only to give another murderous glance at Mr Abdil who was staring at her in shock.  
  
**************  
"So why ask him to help out with the garbage?" Mr Harrehem pressed.  
 "For goodness sake I never asked him, he volunteered."  
The woman stepped in again. "Now exactly why would he volunteer, you must have offered some kind of incentive."  
"There was no incentive."  
Harrehem spoke, "But we know from your story that you had contact before the garbage incident would you like to elaborate?" They were both speeding up now, pressing the attack, homing in for the kill.  
"I really don't remember."  
"Interesting, you remember the contents of your note and events of the past few days with great accuracy but fail to remember this."  
"Look hey, I have done no more than his friends, his teachers, his parents have done, talk to him."  
"They have a license," said Harrehem simply.  
"A license! Did I hear you right, a license?  
"Oh yes, you have to have a license to look after someone outside your own recommended peer group as detailed in the amended social act 2019."  
The woman spoke, "The mother is rather upset that her son was behaving in an antisocial manner."  
"He was not antisocial!" snarled Mr Abdil.  
"So you are denying that you have contravened the code of conduct which is made very clear to civilians."  
"I did not say that."  
Harrehem switched subjects again. "In the case of the coke machine, you may have referred the matter to a talented specialist, if you had been planning to use it yourself. As it was you were given the problem by someone you should not have seen at all."  
"There are plenty of appropriate companions in the 2nd section of the café."  
"I just felt sorry for him."  
"So," the woman continued. "That means you went near enough to know there was a problem, you sought him out."  
"I did not seek him I just saw him."  
"You do not see things you are not looking for."  
"You also chatted to him for how long?"  
"Bout two hours."  
"Why initiate the conversation in the first place?"  
"He looked lost to me."  
"Hah lost, when you knew where he lived."  
"That was your cover story that you formulated as you went outside on purpose." Denny gritted his teeth again. It was no good fighting these two, they had carefully trapped him in an acoustic reverberating chamber. It snatched the words from his tongue and twisted them, then it formed them into a rope which strung him up. His own sentences were drafted by the enemy and served to incriminate him.  
  
 "Enough!" he roared, "There was such a thing as socializing you know, I can not be doing with you lot making everything illegal."  
"Illegal?" The feigned surprise was brilliant. "Oh certainly not far from it, It is just important to have a good reason. Now then, inappropriate things are bad things. There was a proliference of inappropriate things. The solution is simple, to make inappropriate things illegal. That way there will be no inappropriate things. We are giving the people what they want. Now from what I have seen you have no good reason for your actions, making it extremely inappropriate and antisocial. Just give us a very good reason and you are in the clear."  
Dennistoun Abdil looked miserable. He did not want to say the word love. Yes of course that was the reason. The boy's parents were made of granite; the mother was a right cow. The boy was funny and warm-hearted and clever and, something just clicked. He loved him and he had never loved someone before he realized now. As far as he was concerned that was the best reason in the world, but he looked at the pointy chin of Mr Harrehem and the ruthless glance of the woman. No, that cold monster would never understand what he meant, would sneer at him. Not that it mattered, he knew all along that in the law of this day and age he was a criminal and this was a farce, but he disagreed with it so vehemently that he would not even accept that he was accused of incorrect socializing.  
The two were now discussing between themselves saying things like: "Social focus in the wrong direction, leading him astray, bad for him, nasty tendency mustn't become a habit. No absolutely not." They turned to him. "Now please answer truthfully a simple question, did you want to do these things of your own accord?"  
"Well yes."  
"Obviously you are aware of the legalities but you can be spared trial and tribulation if you will simply enroll on a 3 year medical drugs and therapeutics course for social realignment."  
Dennistoun looked at them  in horror; this was an insult "I will not, he is my friend."  
The two looked at him. Mr Harrehem said, "Your friend? You mean you actually like him?" He spat out the word with contempt. "Ugh worse than I thought, Miss Bitchem please contact the S.A.L.P at once. So you won't enroll?" Mr Abdil shook his head. Miss Bitchem looked at him, "Then we have no choice but to find you guilty of an unlicensed friendship. We will hand you over to the police."

  
 **To be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had one person ask if this is set in a school because there were 'children everywhere'  
> I only counted one child and I put him there.  
> The same guy thought the parents were in a play, because Harry was playing the lemon.  
> I was like... its a metaphor you dumb shit.
> 
> Human stupidity.


	2. Part 2

The court commenced at 10.20 PM. Everyone had broken out in a cold sweat.

"Attention attention, court is convened at 10.20 PM." Said the Judge.  
"Write that down, court was convened at 10.20 pm."

Dennistoun was in the podium or alter or whatever and faced another set of faces. The judge rearranged his wig and banged his hammer before speaking. "Dennistoun Abdil you are charged with failing to conform to various social niceties explicitly, you are charged with convening with a person outside the agreed social circle without any necessary world ending cause, also charged with actually liking the poor witless recipient, and charged refusing treatment for same. How do you plead?"  
Denny started to say I am guilty of nothing "I am guilty..."  
"Right sentence him to 5 years imprisonment! Lets go and have coffee." "Court is adjourned at 10.21 pm," "Court was adjourned at 10.21 pm. "Roger Roger trap one court has adjourned at 10.21 pm."

 

Mr Abdil sat on a grubby looking bench feeling miserable. He was in the waiting room of the condemned. A slightly insane looking person had told him not to worry too much about the size of his sentence. The transport system was so inefficient that people could be here for as long as 6 months. If you were lucky they might take that off the sentence.  
Also the guards were so lackadaisical it was possible to slip off and go back home for weeks at a time. Not to escape, there was nowhere to escape to; the cities were walled. He looked at the menacing cold grey stone of this, this for want of a better word, cavern. The end of it was fogged into complete darkness thanks to lousy lighting again. It was really like looking down some vast enormous throat, the part he could see was a mouth and the benches he were sitting on, teeth.

  Within his line of sight though was what appeared to be a quayside. The cavern appeared to double as a place to unload supplies. An absolutely massive tunnel channelled the sea or a river, Denny couldn't tell which and didnt care, into this interior dock. He squinted, it seemed a huge rusty brown trawler that had been there for God knows how long was tethered to the pillars, that were placed just near enough to each other to block vehicles from driving over the edge but not people or small dogs.

Denny had picked up a rather large purple book, there were various copies lying around as a free for all, giving a history of court development in the past few years. There was a lot of propaganda in it. Cutting through all that he garnered how the system worked. He found it repulsive to say the least. Nowadays people would be arrested and charged for something Denny styled could-have-dones. In the current legal system people were guilty even if proven innocent, because evidence might be wrong and they could-have-done. "It was ruled then that this brilliant new system of criminal antipathic resocialising was to be put in effect now. This new system would reveal criminals in the making and stop them doing things."  
Denny translated through the jargon. So they decided prevention was better than cure basically.

"Burglars may be prevented by carefully devised deterrents from supposed high risks areas."

What that means, thought Mr Abdil is no one is allowed to deviate from normal behavior and go somewhere that they are not licensed to go. Why? Because they could commit a burglary. In other words it would be illegal to put yourself in a situation where you could have done. You might not do but you could have done. Therefore you were making yourself a risk and being a potential criminal. The modern law did not tolerate potential crime; forget things that had actually happened, they had to stamp on potential crime. It was quite ridiculous thought Denny. Obviously such rigidness had served as a base for the social grouping rulings of which he was now a victim.

He sat back... to admire the view he thought sarcastically. Then he stirred. What looked like a cross between a black tractor and a bullet train was roaming around the vast floor. The letters S.A.L.P were daubed in white paint across its side. So, his nemesis had come to show itself had it? As hawks display their magnificent wings before swooping. He  
watched some officers disembark and herd some convictees into the trailer at the back. He saw some people come and fill up benches way over in the distance, almost pinpricks. He sighed; he would be here for a long time.

S.A.L.P stood for society and language police. The specialized force trained to deal with that aspect. They would suddenly swoop on educational centers and usher everyone around. They were not called schools. That was confusing with the social grouping of fish, which would be inappropriate. They were quite a weird sight really what with the  
orange service cap and dark blue overalls. They actually carried tranquilizer guns. Dennistoun wondered what actually happened to deviants. He was about to find out.

  He looked up, striding through the vast space was a familiar figure. He took a deep intake of breath and gritted his teeth. It was Mr Harrehem. "Ah Mr Abdil," he said, waving a pack of leaflets around. "I do believe there is some good news." Denny just looked at him.  
"Sometimes people seem to wait here a lot longer than they should, but I have managed to bump the shifts in your case and you will be transferred as soon as possible."  
Denny fumed, "You just couldn't resist doing me a favor could you?"  
"Of course not. Don't worry about term. I and miss Bitchem will give you a guided tour of the facility beforehand."  
They make it sound like I'm going to a bloody holiday camp not a bloody prison. Later Mr Abdil followed Mr Harrehem and Miss Bitchem as they strutted -not walked‑  
strutted down a surprisingly white corridor. "You may of course wonder why the process of transport seems to take so long."  
"Oh do enlighten me," drawled Mr Abdil.  
"Ah of course, unfortunately in the waiting room it is possible for prisoners to engage in pre-emptive illegalities."  
"Here we go, the could-have-done philosophy," whispered Denny to himself. "You had the misfortune to meet an old man I believe. It is in trying to avoid such  
mishaps that the room is so large and the benches are so far apart. Then we track down different ah inmates for suitable grouping. You will never see a white hair once you are interned, all the warders and inmates in your section of the, ah faculty will be within 2 years of your age range. Don't do that you'll catch flies."  
Mr Abdils mouth was hanging wide wide open.  
Harrehem tutted, "I mean, an old man, you've done both extremes of the scale in two weeks, not good. Particularly nasty about the young one though."  
Denny looked up his eyes burning, "Exactly why is that?"

They came to a sliding door with a potted plant next to it. Miss Bitchem looked at him, "This way please."  
Inside they all sat at a highly polished black desk. This room was a clinical bleached white and very brightly lit. Mr Harrehem placed his pointy hands together and continued, "With the old man at least he remembered being your age once, good preknowledge. Now that poor young whippersnapper obviously has no claim to such an advantage, it was a terrible thing to do."  
"But I haven't done."  
"But you did!" snapped Harrehem.  
"And paid the price," added miss Bitchem.  
What is it? Thought Mr Abdil, but could not bring himself to think.  
Miss Bitchem pulled out various notes and books. "The S.A.L.P have done excellent formative work over the years, perhaps this will help you understand. Possibly reconsider treatment."  
Once again they settled into a pattern of them two talking with Mr Abdil not able to get a word in edgeways. "You see that sort of thing (referring to boys and coke machines) would never work. Its fruitless, they are too incompatible. Useless even dangerous. Has to be stopped, must be ended," was what he managed to hear. "It is good to put it on leaflets sometimes but far better to,"  
"That's a bible!" Denny ejaculated.  
"Of course it's a bible. They are excellent tools of society transformation and propaganda. That's what bibles are for didn't you know?"  
"I can't believe this, you will not even let people make a religious choice."

"Nonsense," soothed Harrehem. "People can have different religions, after all they all carry the same idea."  
"We make sure they do," added miss Bitchem.  
"Ah right, so that Jewish chappie, got nailed to a cross, that bit where he says suffer the little children to come unto me."  
Harrehem was aghast, "Oh no couldn't be doing with that, it had to go, give people all sorts of ideas. Now the bit where someone says Gentile with gentile, Jew with Jew, well, philosophical masterpiece."  
Mr Abdil was about to get on his soapbox when Miss Bitchem interrupted. "It's just a re-translation really, we have produced a much healthier version of the bible."  
"Oh yes it was great in it's day but it's got to keep up with the times or go out of print." (Incidentally, it was this tailored bible Registered Panasonic version that the boy would have to study, same page day after day, week after week watched over sternly by his mother until he took the lessons to heart.)  
Denny eyed them once more "What is the point to all this, why do this fuss over the 11 year old?"  
He almost had them flummoxed for a minute and then, "The plain fact is people find it strange."  
"Why should they find it strange?"  
"Because they don't find it normal," said Harrehem, which didn't answer the question. "Nobody likes strange. Obviously if it's strange then it's inappropriate."  
"Oh gimme strength, I remember very clearly one thing the bible said, Moses actually. Thou shalt have no other gods before me. Oh you don't follow. You worship the god appropriate, you put it before God, you put it before humanity, and you put it before life and values. You are obsessed."  
Mr Harrehem tutted with his pointy tongue then dodged the issue. "What a good sounding God. Hmmm Moses, wasn't he found in the Bulrushes by the kings daughter?" "Oh yes, a peasant and a princess, oh dear me not appropriate at all."

Poor Mr Abdil was in a cell later trying to resist the brainwashing. He looked up; someone else was with him.  
"Didn't take the treatment then?"  
He shook his head. The pale stranger shook back some hair, "I did in the end. Oh it wasn't bad at all, quite a relief in some ways.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Oh well, children, and conversation. I used to like them and...Oh it's so ridiculous. I don't like them now. I stick with people like Fred. It is so much better when it is your age range. Lot to discover, so tasteful, so much in common."  
Denny listened to this and found that it was dull and without spirit, not like the insane assertion of Harrehem. Then the door clicked. "Oh sugar, got to go."  
"Yeah, hope it goes well, funny accent ya got, where did you used to live" The stranger paused trying to recollect.  
"Neverland," he said eventually.

It was later that Denny actually saw the wonderful benefits of never talking to someone who was ten years older or younger. There weren't any. He was being shifted through various corridors when out of nowhere a hand grabbed him and yanked him into shade. "Keep still," hissed an old woman.  
"Oh hello dear," said Denny in much to loud a voice. "Did you know this is probably antisocial unless you're my certified granny and I'm bringing an apple for you?"  
The old lady spanked his jaw, "Shut yer hole if you want to get outta here!"  
 "Get out, really, why me!?"  
"You look the type, you're not on medication are you?" Denny responded in the negative.  
"Ear, that big ship in cavern is leavin and we'll be on it."  
They scurried into the big brown ship and found a dark place to sit as it creaked and scratched it's way out to sea. The old lady sat chomping an apple. "Wotcher name?"  
 "I'm Mr Abdil."  
"Aaargh you'll be glad to be escaping that flippin madhouse, bunch of nutters. We have none of that rubbish where we're headed."  
Denny sat up, "What about my boy, the one I was in trouble for?"  
The old lady chewed, "By eck, have you got him? Sorry pet, is likely you'll never see him again, get used to it."  
 A dagger went through his heart.  
  
Meanwhile miss Bitchem reported to Harrehem, "He's gone without a trace sir. You know I do think the system is breaking down." Harrehem nodded, "Not to worry, there is a device that will put it back on track." A serviceman wheeled in something in a box. He undid the box and inside was a golden robot. The guy donned a salesman attitude; he was roughly the same age as the other two. "New breakthrough in compact A.I and sound systems plus motor control. Plus a high capacity for paralinguistic development. They will replace parents. It will kill the sibling problem at once."  
Harrehem rejoined, "Having been taught about adults properly rather than being exposed, the youngling will see no need to talk to strangers. Sounds excellent have it commissioned at once!"

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dagger is a metaphorical one, some people have been confused about that.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had one person ask if this is set in a school because there were 'children everywhere'  
> I only counted one child and I put him there.  
> The same guy thought the parents were in a play, because Harry was playing the lemon.  
> I was like... its a metaphor you dumb shit.
> 
> Human stupidity.


End file.
